


Dem Missverständnis zum Verdruss

by NikoNotHere, Wahnsinn



Series: Rammstein one-shots [5]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Angst, Denial of Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Past Drug Addiction, References to Drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24724873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere/pseuds/NikoNotHere, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wahnsinn/pseuds/Wahnsinn
Summary: After the end of the 2019 Europe Stadium Tour leg, Paul and Richard are conflicted about their last kiss onstage.
Relationships: Richard Kruspe/Paul Landers
Series: Rammstein one-shots [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1730041
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58





	Dem Missverständnis zum Verdruss

**Author's Note:**

> This fiction is a collaboration between [Wahnsinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wahnsinn) and [NikoNotHere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikoNotHere). Instead of writing separate parts, we wrote most of the story at the same time, meshing our writing together, in particular in the dialogue sections. It is our first time working together.
> 
> The setting is the end of Rammstein's 2019 Europe Stadium Tour at Ernst-Happel Stadion in Vienna, 23 August 2019. Our inspiration was [this kiss](https://youtu.be/ELqVPenguIo?t=297).

Richard could not believe his own eyes. Or rather, his mouth. Throughout the entire Stadium Tour, the kisses he eventually had shared with Paul had been brief and clinical. Yet this time, for their very last kiss, their lips had lingered together a tiny bit longer. Paul’s were soft, a little salty from the sweat, and Richard could have sworn he felt Paul’s tongue brush against his own lips. Losing himself in the moment, he forgot to lift his arm to signal he was ready for Du riechst so gut.

When the song did kick in despite this, he felt his hands starting to play on auto-pilot while his mind was in a totally different place. The Ausländer outro stunt had started as a joke, where he and Paul had shown affection to rile up the audience, which had worked better than they could ever have anticipated. Though when an eager crowd started to yell for a kiss, Richard had seen it as an opportunity.

There was of course no way he would admit it, but Richard felt more than friendship for his guitar colleague. After Schneider had brought the two of them closer during the recording of their untitled album, he had - finally - truly enjoyed working with Paul. It was through their sharing of thoughts and ideas that he had started to really notice him. Appreciate him. _See_ him.

Paul. The small man with the big smile. Stubborn as hell, but once you got past that, his enthusiasm and happiness could lighten up any room, any stage, or any mood. Richard had mentally beat himself up for not having noticed before. _I guess that’s what happens when you’re a depressive control freak_ , he had thought. Then again, perhaps the stars had needed to align to this point where he was in a much better place mentally, and where, by some crazy miracle, they were both still single.

There was only one problem. Quite frankly there were many problems, but right now, one was bigger than all the others: How to figure out if there was any chance that Paul might feel the same, without making a fool out of himself, and without ruining the entire band in the process.

This had turned out to be harder than he had hoped. In the Deutschland video, Richard had managed to squeeze in two hugs with Paul, but when he had suggested a Bruderkuss, Till had - _of course_ he had - been all over it, _literally_. And while kissing Till was all good and well, Till was not Paul. Besides, they were always surrounded by other people while recording music videos.

Enter the Ausländer outro. Richard could not remember who had first come up with the idea of him and Paul slowly and teasingly playing their way towards each other. What he did recall was Oliver rolling on the floor laughing, howling something about «Paulchard», Till wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and Flake sighing from relief that it was not him. Schneider had even made a bet with Paul that by the end of the tour, Richard would have kissed him. Paul had spluttered out a ‘no way’ and happily shaken Schneider’s hand. Richard had no idea what they’d wagered. He was too busy hiding his beet red face by pretending to strum his guitar.

 _It’s funny what adrenaline can do to you_ , Richard thought as he discovered that Till was already on his dick cannon. He hadn’t planned on kissing Paul in Berlin. Though the rush of being on stage in his home city, in front of a totally wild audience, and with a Paul that sent him a very suggestive look, he decided just go for it.

Man, had that been something special. Richard had flown through the rest of the concert, Schneider had beamed behind the drum set from having won his bet, and the audience had gone totally bonkers. It took him a while to dare doing it again, but towards the end of the tour, they were more or less expected to kiss. Richard always looked forward to it. Deep inside, he hoped Paul did, too.

That’s why he had been so surprised when Paul started taking the initiative, leaning into the kiss, hugging - and now, this. Glancing over at Till’s fire backpack, he almost felt his thoughts being pumped out of his skull like the fire from that backpack. Paul. Kiss. Tongue. He had to know.

And as Ich will boomed out of the loudspeakers, Richard made up his mind. _Ich will_ go and see Paul after the show, he thought, encouraged by the music. _Ich höre dich. Ich sehe dich. Ich fühle dich._

\-- 

“Fuck yeah, that was one hell of a show!” Leaving the stage as the last one, as usual, Richard was met by a very happy Till and a bear hug that almost left him breathless. 

“Yes, it was,” he replied, smiling at Till to make him go away so that he could focus on the two things on his mind; first, a cigarette; then, Paul.

Unfortunately, Till didn’t take the hint, so for five very long minutes, Richard was stuck listening to the man ramble about their performance, which parts had been great, and how it would look on the recording. In desperation, he managed to wave Joe Letz over so he could get a cigarette and at least spend that time doing something useful, but in the end, he lost his patience.

“I NEED TO TAKE A PISS!” he exclaimed, waving a hand in front of Till’s face.

The vocalist looked confused for a second, then burst into laughter, slung his arm around Richard’s shoulder, and started walking towards the bathrooms.

“...ALONE. I am not the one obsessed with dicks.” Richard glared at Till, who finally took the hint, patted him on his back, and sent him off.

“Fucking finally,” Richard sighed, only to run head first into a very smug Flake.

“A bit distracted today?” Flake grinned. “That kiss today was truly something - I’m glad you finally realised Paul enjoys kissing you. And you seem to...”

Richard rolled his eyes, interrupting the keyboardist. “Come on, Flake, are we not done joking about this?” he sighed, throwing his hands out in frustration.

“But…” Flake started.

“Flake - I’m too sober for this to be funny. But hey, it was a good show tonight.” Richard pulled a slightly confused bandmate into a quick hug before he took off, leaving Flake standing in the hall like a golden question mark.

 _What is wrong with people tonight_ , Richard thought to himself. _Shouldn’t they be celebrating the end of the tour instead of hovering around the hall?_

He hadn’t even finished his train of thought before Oliver came sliding out from nowhere with a huge smile on his face. “There you are!” the tall man beamed, and Richard couldn’t suppress a smile as he found himself hugged and lifted up from the ground.

“You can put me down now, Olli,” he chuckled after a few seconds of airtime.

“Oh.” The bassist realised he was still lifting Richard, and carefully put him back down on the floor. “I just wanted to say it was great seeing you and Paul on stage today, it makes me really happy!”

“Umm, yeah, thank you. I need to, uh…” Unsure of what to say, he just waved his hand in the direction of the wardrobes.

“Ah, of course, good luck!” Oliver smiled and disappeared as quietly as he had arrived.

This time it was Richard’s turn to be left in the hall like a question mark, but he quickly shook that off and started walking towards Paul’s dressing room - only to see Schneider casually lounging outside of it, tapping his fingers on his thighs as if he was waiting.

“Ah hey, Reesh! Do you remember that bet I made with Paul…” Schneider started, but this time, Richard was determined not to let anyone else keep him from doing what he was set out to do.

“Tell me later, Schneider. I need to talk to…” he pushed past the drummer, opened the door to the dressing room, stepped in, and quickly shut the door behind him.

“...Paul.” 

Richard’s eyes opened wide. Paul was sitting on the sofa. He hadn’t changed out of his grey stage costume yet, and his face was still full of gold, red, and black make-up, beaming just like it did on stage as he smiled one of those beautiful, trademark Paul Landers smiles.

And - he was not alone.

She was fucking stunning. Long, blonde hair. Full, red lips. Perfect hourglass shaped body in an elegant Burberry dress. Slim fingers cradling a glass of bubbles. Legs for days that ended in a pair of red Loubotins.

“Richard! Haven’t you heard about knocking!” Paul quipped.

With two pairs of eyes on him, Richard pressed his back against the door, feeling almost like a trapped animal. “Ehehe, hey - what’s up?” he managed.

Paul smiled even wider. “Don’t you see? I have a date,” he laughed, and the woman laughed too, putting her hand softly onto Paul’s as she did.

Richard’s blood froze in his veins. He swallowed.

“I didn’t mean to disturb… I - I’m sorry. B-bye,” he stuttered, before quickly opening the door again, stumbling back into the hall.

Richard’s heart was threatening to beat its way out of his chest, his throat was dry, and the lump in his stomach grew by the second. While he was totally sober, he felt confused, dizzy, nauseated, and the only thing on his mind was to get away, far away - home.

“Joe! Joe!” he yelled, and Joe Letz came scrambling over. “Tell the tour manager to call the airport and get the plane ready. I want to go home. NOW.”

With that, he left for his dressing room to pack, while Joe ran off to make the arrangements. And Schneider - who heard it all - had his own turn at being the question mark in the hallway.

\--

Paul’s normally big grin wavered as four of his five other band mates stared down hard at him. 

“What the _fuck_ , Paul?” Schneider demanded.

Before Paul could answer, Till, Oliver, and Flake all chimed in with their disapprovals.

“Why on earth would you say that?” Till asked in disbelief.

“You’re being spectacularly dense,” Flake noted.

“It probably wasn’t a good idea to tell him that,” Oliver added in.

Paul was befuddled. Even Oliver was irked at, well, whatever they thought he’d done wrong.

“I have no idea what you’re all talking about,” Paul insisted, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. “Not a good idea to tell _who_ \--?”

“Richard!” all four men yelled at him in unison.

Paul shrank back into the couch, feeling quite small under their stern gazes and loud voices. “Tell Richard what?” he asked.

Groans and sighs echoed around the room. Schneider put his head in his hands as if he had a headache, Till crossed his arms in disgust, Oliver gave a disappointed grimace, and Flake frowned down at him. 

“You told him you were on a date,” Oliver explained.

“So? I was joking, and why would it matter anyhow?”

Another round of exasperated noises filled the room.

Schneider stalked over closer to the couch and pointed down at Paul, who shrank back further. “You are one of the single most oblivious men I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” he stated.

“Your blindness is amazing at this point,” Till said incredulously.

Oliver simply nodded in agreement as Flake took his turn standing in front of a wide-eyed Paul. He leveled his gaze hard at him, and Paul pulled his legs up onto the couch to hug them protectively. Flake currently had his “you’re a fucking idiot and here’s why” look, and Paul knew he was about to be lambasted.

“Richard just hopped a plane back to Berlin because of you,” Flake accused. “The man is in love with you, and you go and say something like this as if it’s nothing. Unbelievable.”

Paul’s mouth dropped open. The band continued to berate his naivete, but he barely heard them. He was far too busy trying to process the bombshell that had just been dropped on him.

“Wait, wait,” he said, interrupting the chorus of voices. “What the hell did you say?”

Flake rolled his eyes. “I said people could write dissertations on your ability to miss signals.”

“No, not that,” Paul waved a hand. He took a deep breath, certain he had just misheard. Richard is in love with me?”

“ _YES!_ ” the chorus of four voices all yelled at him again, pushing him as far back into the sofa as he could scrunch his body.

“And more importantly,” Schneider said, stepping up to take Flake’s place in front of the cowering man, “You just told him you were on a date with someone when he almost certainly was about to tell you how he felt about you.”

Paul swallowed, then said quietly, “I didn’t know…”

“Because you’re oblivious!” Till shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m done here. Maybe you all can talk some sense into him. I’m going to see if I can get ahold of Richard before his flight leaves.”

Till stomped out of the room, leaving the other three to continue the guilt trip.

“Unbelievable,” Schneider muttered, turning away and pulling out his phone.

Paul desperately looked over at Oliver, hoping the soft-spoken man might be a bit gentler with him.

Oliver shrugged in response to his pleading eyes. “I really thought it was obvious,” he said simply.

“Apparently “obvious” to Paul means he needs to be literally slapped in the face with it,” Flake sassed, “since kissing him very pointedly in the face with it didn’t seem to work.”

“That was just for the show!” Paul protested. “We’re showmen. We just gave the audience what they wanted.”

Schneider stuck his phone in front of Paul’s face abruptly and hit play on a video. “Ulrike sent me this,” he said. “I had a feeling I would need video evidence, so I asked her to record you two tonight.”

Paul watched silently as the video zoomed in on him and Richard. They slowly approached each other, Paul with a playful grin on his face and Richard with a more stoic expression. Seeing Richard from this alternate angle shocked him. Paul could now note the purpose with which Richard walked up, the way his eyes drifted shut briefly as they kissed, and how he lingered afterward, seeming to miss that he was supposed to signal for the next song. When Paul had pulled away, Richard looked dazed, as if he’d forgotten where he was for a few moments.

He’d wanted more.

That thought struck Paul as if he’d been punched. It was so clear when he watched it from someone else’s perspective. Richard had wanted more from the kiss; probably more than even just a kiss. His body language practically screamed it as the man stared after Paul when he walked away.

“He loves me,” Paul said, in shock.

“Glad you’re _finally_ making the connection,” Flake said, shaking his head. “I’m going to eat. Let me know if you need more incredibly obvious things explained to you.”

Flake left, and Schneider followed him. “You need to go after him and talk,” Schneider advised on the way out.

Paul was left in the company of Oliver, and the two stayed quiet for several minutes. Paul continued to sit in a ball with his arms around his knees, trying to process what he’d just learned. 

Oliver sat down beside him and patted his shoulder comfortingly. “You really had no idea?” he asked gently.

“I, well, no; not really. It’s never been anything but a joke to us, or I thought it wasn’t.”

A slight raise of Oliver’s eyebrow asked silently whether Paul actually believed that. Oliver patted his shoulder, to show that while he wouldn’t press the issue, he still cared and wanted Paul to open up to himself.

Warmth sneaked its way up Paul’s neck and to his cheeks. If he were being totally honest, he knew better; at least in his own mind. He had strong feelings for Richard, and had either ignored or stifled them for years. They were professionals, colleagues, and above all else friends. Whatever feelings Paul had were secondary to their friendship. At least, that’s always what he told himself.

Each time he saw Richard with his various girlfriends; each time he watched him approached and subsequently seduced by groupies; each time he’d watched the kisses on the lips of other women and his hands entwined in theirs-- all of these had added to Paul’s very firm decision not to act on whatever he may have felt for Richard.

“He loves me,” Paul repeated, still too stunned to form elaborate thoughts.

“It really is pretty obvious to everyone,” Oliver said, patting his shoulder yet again. “We assumed you knew. That kiss tonight…”

Paul swallowed at the hanging suggestion. It was true, of course. He’d pushed, ever so slightly tonight, perhaps subconsciously to test Richard. Paul had lengthened the kiss, deepened it, even briefly flicked his tongue for God’s sake. And based on the video - and everyone’s very loud reactions after the fact - Richard had not only accepted it, but seemingly asked for more. 

And then Paul had slapped him with a girlfriend joke.

“Oh god,” Paul lamented, burying his face in his hands at the realization. “I fucked it all up.”

Oliver’s hand switched to rubbing Paul’s back comfortingly. “What are you going to do?” he asked.

After a long, heavy sigh, Paul raised his head in determination.

“I need to go after him.”

\-- 

It was really late by the time Richard finally unlocked the door to his apartment. Kicking off his shoes and tossing his bag into a corner, he was grateful that Joe had agreed to pack up the rest of his stuff and bring it to him later.

Embraced by welcome darkness, he found his way to the bedroom and slumped onto the bed. Breathing deeply, in and out, Richard closed his eyes and tried to calm down. He had hoped that being at home would help his anxiety. It didn’t.

The image of Paul and the blonde woman was still etched into his mind. Paul - he had been right there, kissing him on stage, night after night - and now he was lost just because _someone_ had been a slow and scared idiot, unable to man up and tell him how he felt.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” Richard yelled into the darkness, hoping that someone would answer him, tell him he was wrong. No one did. There was only silence - deafening silence, and the image of Paul laughing, the woman laughing, touching Paul’s hand, in slow motion, on repeat in an endless loop, laughing at him, because he had lost, they had won.

“I’m such a loser,” Richard whispered to himself. He hardly ever cried, but for the first time in years, he could feel tears burning behind his eyelids.

Rolling out of bed, he stumbled over to the huge walk-in closet and opened the door, flipping on the light. Blinking from the sudden brightness, he pushed some coats aside to reveal his safe. Taking a deep breath, he opened it and retrieved a wooden box from the bottom shelf before returning to the bedroom.

There was something strangely soothing about pouring the white powder onto the mirror. With well-trained fingers, Richard smoothly moved the razor blade, cutting and sculpting the cocaine into a neat line. It had been so long, but he could almost feel the high just by looking at his stash. Even though his body tingled in anticipation, a voice in the back of his head told him this was a really, really bad idea. He had worked so hard to break the addiction, and if he gave in now, he would let down not just himself, but so many others...

 _Maybe if I ignore it, the craving will go away_ , Richard thought, desperately searching for a distraction. He crawled back onto the bed, grabbed the remote control, and turned on the huge flat screen TV by the end of the bed. Blue light filled the room, and Richard squinted as he flipped through the channels.

_Fuck._

Richard recognised the movie that was playing on one of the channels. While his brain told him to zap, zap, for god’s sake, ZAP - his fingers refused to, forcing him to keep watching. _Brokeback Mountain_. Richard had seen the movie years ago, and it had touched him even back then. But now? Jack and Ennis. _Richard and Paul._

Richard felt tears running down his cheeks. Unable to hold back anymore, he rolled over on his side, burying his face in the pillow, his whole body shaking as he cried, wailing out all of his agony with only an empty apartment as his audience.

\-- 

Paul rubbed his eyes. They hurt from a combination of sleep deprivation and a near-constant fight to keep back anxious tears. 

The night had gone to shit. Once he’d made the decision to go after Richard, he went to their tour manager and demanded use of their private jet to fly back to Berlin. Paul had been yelled at yet again, as the manager told him that Richard had left with it, and it would need to refuel before a return trip. Paul stubbornly held his ground and said he’d just wait for it to come back, then. Their manager threw his hands up in annoyance, but said fine, and told Paul where to meet the pilot when he came back from dropping off Richard.

Nearly three hours later Paul was on their jet to Berlin, having been given a particularly sour look by the pilot when he’d boarded. Paul mumbled an apology for the inconvenience, but was too weary for anything further.

He’d tried reading, listening to music, even scribbling a bit in a notebook he found lying on the floor. The flight was only a bit over an hour to Berlin from Vienna, but time was currently crawling by at an agonizingly slow pace. Paul checked his watch for the 12th time, and sighed when it only showed only ten minutes had passed since the last time he looked. 

Paul threw the notebook to the floor of the plane in frustration. He wasn’t Till. He couldn’t ease his mind by writing raunchy poetry or thinking up a dozen different ways to say “penis” like their frontman could. He was stuck going over and over the kiss from that night instead, now having a third person perspective from Ulrike’s video.

Richard had looked so good, so _happy_ with the kiss. It made Paul’s gut hurt to then compare that image of Richard with the stunned, broken look he had in the dressing room.

Paul thunked his head back against the headrest. It was all his fault.

For the millionth time, he asked himself how he could have been so blind and stupid. He knew the answer, of course. Rationalization came easy to him, and explaining away all the signs and signals was a lot easier than coming to terms with the fact that his bandmate actually had feelings for him. Willful ignorance had been his default response to it all.

Would things have gone differently if he’d acknowledged the feelings instead?

That heavy thought burned in his mind all the way back to Berlin.

\-- 

Loud ringing woke Richard up from an uneasy sleep. It took him a few seconds to realise that the ringing did not come from his own head, or the TV that had been left on, but from the doorbell. He glanced at the watch on the bedside table. 04:32. _Who in the hell_ , Richard thought, rubbing his eyes as he sluggishly got up to answer the door. 

“Fuck, I’m coming, stop pushing the damn doorbell!” he yelled as he turned on the light in the entryway before unlocking the door and ripping it open, ready to chew out whoever dared disturb him in the middle of the night.

Richard was not prepared for the sight that met him. Paul looked like shit. He had big bags under his eyes, he was still wearing his stage costume, and it was clear that he hadn’t slept at all.

“P-paul?” Richard stammered. “What are you doing here?”

Paul stared wide-eyed back at Richard, who looked equally like shit. His formerly immaculate hair was matted to the side, rough sleep lines covered one side of his face, and his eyeliner was smudged and rubbed around the corners of his eyes that were also slightly reddened.

“Have you been crying?” Paul asked, astonished at the thought.

“Did you just come at my door at four fucking thirty-two to ask me if I have been crying?” Richard snapped.

Indignant, Paul shot right back, “Is that how you welcome your friend to your home, by swearing at him in the doorway? I’ve already been yelled at by at least six people in the past three hours and I don’t need you to yell at me as well.”

“If they yelled at you, they probably had a good reason for it! Like disturbing someone in the middle of the night!” Richard said, crossing his arms defiantly.

“One of the reasons was because you fucked off with the private jet,” Paul reminded, his anger rising at Richard’s accusatory tone. “Did it not occur to you that maybe other people needed to get places too?”

Richard stared angrily at Paul. “Actually, no. Everyone was planning to stay in Vienna. You know that just as well as I do.” 

Paul became flustered, knowing Richard was right but not wanting to admit it. “Yeah, well, believe it or not, sometimes plans change, and commandeering a whole jet for yourself on a whim isn’t exactly a very conscientious thing to do.”

“Well, I specifically recall you telling me that _you_ were going to the afterparty to celebrate the end of the tour, and that you were staying _at least_ until tomorrow, so what the hell are you doing in Berlin?” 

“I-- well, you said the same thing!” Paul countered, feeling himself being backed into a corner by the questions. It suddenly felt like a terrible idea to bring up the kiss, much less their feelings about it. “So what are _you_ doing here?”

“How about I was looking forward to celebrating with someone who suddenly turned out to have other plans for the night - like - a _date_?” Richard’s eyes suddenly looked more hurt than angry.

Paul opened his mouth, then swallowed nervously before answering, “I mean, yes, but no! I was just joking around. I owed Schneider a favor because of losing that bet, and he asked me to meet a good friend of Ulrike’s that she’s been asking him about. She was a big fan and just wanted to talk to me.”

“Looked like more than talking to me.” In his head, Richard could still hear the woman’s laughter and see her hand on Paul’s.

Paul blushed a little remembering the woman’s very clear advances toward him. “Well, I mean, she was very beautiful, and it’s not like I don’t enjoy the attention.”

“Then why don’t you fly back to Vienna and catch up with her,” Richard muttered, and started closing the door in Paul’s face.

“Wait!” Paul said, jamming his foot at the door to stop it from closing on him. “I wasn’t actually interested in her, though. It was just a favor to Schneider. Why do you think she’s still in Austria while I’m here?”

Richard shrugged. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?”

Paul glanced around the hallway outside Richard’s loft. “You could at least invite me inside to talk,” he said sarcastically.

“Fine.” Richard opened the door to let his fellow guitarist in. “But if you yell at me again, I’m going to throw you out.”

Paul was about to retort something about Richard being the only one yelling, but held his tongue and walked inside, jamming his hands into his pockets uncomfortably.

They walked in silence into the living room where Paul flopped down on the sofa, while Richard pointedly sat down in a chair and not next to him. “Talk,” he said, crossing his arms again.

Paul took a moment to clear his throat, stalling so he could organize his thoughts.  
“I came to apologize,” he started slowly, his eyes downcast as the words came to him. “It was insensitive of me to joke about being on a date when I wasn’t.”

Richard looked at him incredulously. “You flew to Berlin to apologize for a _joke_?”

Paul was quickly running out of vague excuses to offer. His mind raced but he couldn’t think of anything else to say. Shit.

“Well?” Richard frowned, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor.

“I think you know good and well why I’m here,” Paul finally said quietly. He raised his eyes to meet Richard’s. “The kiss.”

For a moment, Richard stopped breathing. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, his brain had short-circuited and it felt like his entire body stiffened.

“The kiss,” he said, unable to do anything but repeat Paul’s words.

“We aren’t going to get anywhere if we keep parroting back each other’s words,” Paul said with a resigned tone. “Yes, the kiss. I know you felt it. That kiss was more than just joking and performing onstage, more than just giving the audience what they want.”

Richard swallowed. “Yes,” he sighed. “That was what I was going to talk to you about, you know, in the dressing room.”

“Well, I gathered as much. Every single one of our bandmates informed me of that very loudly after you left. Apparently they’re much better at picking up hints than I am.”

Paul paused for a moment, unsure what he should say next.

“...everyone? Loudly? Even Oliver?” Richard couldn’t suppress a smile.

“I mean, he didn’t exactly _yell_ ,” Paul admitted, smiling a bit himself. “But he made sure to tell me how obvious he thought it all was, especially the kiss.”

Richard blushed a little. “Was it really _that_ obvious?”

“Apparently not to me,” Paul said in irritation. “But, yes. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it was. And, well…” his voice trailed off as he looked Richard in the eye again.  
“I did make sure the kiss was pretty obvious this time.”

“So…” Richard almost felt like an awkward teenager. “So I didn’t just imagine the tongue part.”

Paul chuckled. “No, you didn’t. Maybe I should have stuck my tongue down your throat just to make it perfectly clear.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Paul felt himself blush, hard. It had slipped out before he even thought them through, much less whether it were a good idea to joke about.

“...or maybe I should have used my tongue as well.” Richard’s colour now matched Paul’s, and he looked down at his feet.

Paul had felt sure his face couldn’t get any more hot after his literal and figurative slip of the tongue. He was wrong.

The two sat in red-faced silence, neither daring to say anything right away.

Finally breaking the tense quiet in the room, Paul coughed, then looked over at Richard again. He patted the space on the couch next to him. “No need to sit across the room,” he encouraged quietly.

“I guess not,” Richard said with a nervous laugh. Getting up, his legs were shaking a little as he walked over to the sofa to sit down next to Paul.

Paul raised a tentative hand to set on Richard’s leg. He was wearing some dark colored jogging pants that felt soft and slick to the touch. Paul gently stroked his hand across the pant leg, still keeping his eyes trained on Richard as he said determinedly, “I think I love you. I think I’ve loved you for a very, very long time.”

He felt his throat get tight at his own admission, but swallowed the lump and continued, steeling himself to get everything out into the light. “I want to be more than bandmates, more than just friends. I need it, I think.”

For the second time that day, Richard felt tears burning behind his eyelids. “I think I need that too,” he whispered.

Paul’s heart hadn’t stopped, but it certainly felt like it had. His breath was sucked away at Richard’s agreement. He wanted to pinch himself, just to be absolutely sure this wasn’t a cruel dream.

Biting his lip, Richard gathered enough courage to let his hand slide around Paul’s neck. He could feel Paul shudder a bit from the touch, but the shy smile he received made him bold enough to lean in, slowly, like they had done so many times on stage - until their lips were only centimetres away from each other.

Paul let out a breathy chuckle, more pleased than he ever thought possible. Though the position was familiar to him, this time it truly meant something more. 

He moved in, finally pressing his lips to Richard’s. He felt both his and Richard’s breath hitch as he did so, and the world melted away around them. It became a moment with only them, finally coming together as they both knew they were meant to.

Their breathing quickly became heavy, and the kiss grew more passionate. Richard was the first to move his mouth, angling his head and pushing to deepen the kiss and taste Paul more fully. Paul in turn huffed into Richard’s push, welcoming it with a quick swipe of his tongue. That served to pull a pleased grunt from Richard, who tightened his grip on the back of Paul’s neck. Paul moved his hand that had been gently resting on Richard’s leg to his waist, and pulled the man closer. 

The kiss lasted several eternities, with neither man wanting to end it. But, a lack of air finally forced them both to sit back a bit, still eager and wanting. 

Richard’s deep blue eyes met Paul’s lustful greys, and he asked in a husky voice, “Would you like to take this to my bedroom?”

A grin from Paul answered the question immediately. Ever the romantic, Richard laced his fingers through Paul’s and guided him to the master bedroom. Paul followed eagerly, gripping Richard’s hand tightly in his own. 

“It’s a mess, sorry,” Richard said hastily, kicking some clothes on the floor out of the way. He obviously hadn’t been expecting company, as the room was still in its slightly messed up state from when he’d left it last. He’d forgotten to hire someone to come and clean the place before the tour, and hadn’t had a chance to come back during their down times.

“Don’t worry about it,” Paul said, his mind on a very specific and singular track. “I’m not really concerned with--”

His statement cut short as Paul noticed Richard’s bedside table. A few remotes and magazines were scattered over the top, but those weren’t what had drawn his attention.

“Richard, were you using again?”

At the dramatic change in Paul’s voice, Richard immediately followed the man’s gaze across the room. His eyes widened when he spotted his little tray of cocaine that he’d left earlier.

“Oh, fuck, no no that’s not what it looks like,” Richard stammered, releasing Paul’s hand and rushing over to the dresser.

“It looks like cocaine, Reesh,” Paul said quietly.

The mixture of concern and disappointment in Paul’s voice felt like a stab in Richard’s heart.  
“I didn’t use it, I swear,” he said, dumping the rest of the contents of his little box onto the tray. 

“Then why is it out by your bed?” Paul’s tone remained quiet, but still worried.

“I, well…” Richard’s voice caught as he recalled the anguish he’d been in just hours before.  
“I was going to,” he admitted. “I thought you’d been on a date with that woman, and it just hurt so badly anytime I thought about it. I didn’t want to keep obsessing about it, so I set it all up. But I swear to you, I didn’t use. I ended up falling asleep instead.”

Richard stood next to the bedside table, trembling from a combination of anxiety and shame. Paul stared at him, his eyebrows lowered slightly in a small frown. After a minute, Paul gave a short nod.

“I believe you,” he said, his voice still low and quiet. “If I asked you to, would you get rid of it? I won’t feel comfortable unless I know it’s gone and not around to tempt you anymore.”

Richard only paused for the briefest of moments, mentally warring with his addiction before standing up straighter.

“Yes.”

He grabbed the tray and box and walked to the bathroom, motioning with his head for Paul to follow. Richard went to the toilet and immediately began scraping off the line from the tray into it. He followed up with the little baggie, turning it inside out and making sure the powder all drifted into the toilet. Richard finished by dropping the tiny bag itself into it, and with a firm motion, flushed it all away, for good.

“There,” he said quietly. Though his body still screamed at him for a fix, he was determined not to ever let it control him again.

Hands suddenly wrapped around his waist from the back, and Richard realized Paul had grabbed him in a tight hug.

“Thank you,” Paul murmured against the back of his neck. “I know how hard that is.”

Richard shrugged, then turned his head to face Paul. “I don’t need it. I’ve got someone better.”

He pressed his lips back against Paul’s in an awkward kiss, then chuckled.

“What?” Paul demanded when Richard pulled away.

“You smell like ash and sweat.”

Indignant, Paul retorted, “So do you, but I was being polite and not saying anything.”

Richard turned around to face Paul, and then gestured toward his elaborate shower. “Would it be terribly rude of me to suggest we clean up a bit?”

Paul’s indignance immediately vanished at the thought of them in the shower. “Together?”

Richard grinned. “That’s what I was thinking, yeah.”

Paul grinned right back, bowing and gesturing for Richard to enter the shower. “After you.”

It took no time at all for Richard to set up the shower. He stripped his old sweater off and pulled his sweatpants down, revealing he wasn’t wearing any underwear. Paul swallowed, frozen in place at the sight of Richard’s bare backside.

Richard turned to look at Paul and laughed at the man’s expression. “Come on, Landers. You’ve seen this ass a million times.” He wiggled his butt for good measure before opening the ornate glass shower door and stepping inside.

Paul shook himself free of the reverie and followed suit, taking off his own stage outfit that he’d not bothered to change from before flying down. He chanced a look at himself in the mirror before getting into the shower and nearly laughed at how terrible he looked. His makeup had smudged badly, leaving only half his face semi-gold colored. The red mess of hair on his head was awful, darkened slightly from the smoke of the show and sticking out at weird angles. Paul swiped a hand across his head self consciously, trying to smooth it slightly before Richard’s voice interrupted him.

“You're about to take a shower, you goof. Don’t worry about your hair.”

He looked over and saw Richard’s wet head sticking out of the shower door. The man’s black hair was completely wet and hung down into his face as water ran freely from it. “Come on,” Richard encouraged, motioning for him to get in.

Paul took a deep breath and slowly made his way into the shower. He had no idea why he was so nervous suddenly. He’d not only been naked around Richard but even showered with him many times before. Not every venue had the luxury of separate showers, much less dressing rooms, and over the many years together in Rammstein, the two had doubled up on their bathing routines plenty. He stepped into the steamy shower, amazed at the luxury of it. Richard had excellent taste. Paul’s gaze drifted lower, and rested on his friend’s manhood. He also had an excellent package. 

Before he could think too much, Paul had reached for Richard, pulling the man close to him under the spray of hot water. Richard allowed himself to be moved, sliding back gently to meet Paul’s grasp. Richard’s hips were full, and Paul savoured the feel of them under his hands. Although they’d both gained a bit of weight over the years, and their bodies weren’t as toned as they’d been when they were younger, both still found one another absolutely irresistible.

Paul turned Richard around and kissed him again, moaning into his mouth as Richard slid his hands up Paul’s body. Richard was so smooth; his body was perfect, and Paul couldn’t get enough of touching it. He moved his hands from Richard’s hips to his chest, gripping at one of his pecs with a small growl. Richard gasped, and Paul felt himself throb at the sound. He kept himself in check though, choosing instead to savour kissing and holding the man as he stroked across his soft skin.

After a few minutes of nothing but intense kisses, Richard finally pulled back. He was breathing heavily, his eyes half closed from the passion.  
“We should probably finish cleaning off,” he said, a bit sheepishly. 

Paul nodded, trying to hide his slight disappointment at having to stop. He quickly perked up when he realized Richard intended to help him bathe, and Paul did likewise for Richard. Never had Paul had a more pleasant time in the shower.

After a quick few minutes soaping up and rinsing the sweat, smoke, and general grime of the day before off of them, the two got out of the shower and dried off. Richard had spared no expense in decorating and furnishing his bathroom, and his towels were no exception. They were giant, fluffy, and as soft as clouds.

After deciding they were dry enough, Richard yet again took Paul by the hand and led him to the bedroom. Instantly Paul felt blood dumping south as the two climbed onto the bed and scooted close together. A quick look down at Richard’s crotch confirmed he was equally as eager to get back to business.

With only a brief glance up at Paul’s eyes to make sure it was okay, Richard gently situated Paul into a sitting position with his legs spread slightly. Without hesitation, Richard laid himself between Paul’s legs and pulled him into his mouth.

A groan instantly left Paul’s mouth at the feeling of Richard’s soft lips and heated mouth on him. His hands flew up to Richard’s head, gripping into his hair. Paul’s back stiffened as he felt Richard’s tongue moving in sync along with his mouth. Not only that, but Richard soon began to fondle at Paul’s balls as well. The man was *good.* And judging by the smug look Richard gave up at him while he worked, he knew it, too. Those blue eyes, god.

As Paul felt his pleasure climbing steadily, he noticed Richard began moving beneath him. He glanced down and watched in satisfied amusement as the man jerked at himself, humping into his own hand as he sucked Paul off.

“Here,” Paul said, his voice gruff with arousal. “Let me help.” 

With a bit of maneuvering and pulling Richard off him for just a moment, Paul leaned himself to the side and reached. He remembered quite some time ago when Richard was drunk, he’d raved about how great handjobs were. He claimed that, while nice, blowjobs were never quite as nice as feeling someone else’s hands on him. Paul wanted to test that assertion, both out of a desire to help himself last longer, but more importantly to give Richard just as much pleasure as he was currently receiving.

The moment Paul’s fingers touched Richard’s stiffened cock, the man gasped. Paul was surprised at how hot it felt, and how incredibly smooth it was. Richard was immaculately soft and pleasant everywhere, it seemed. Richard squirmed at the feeling of Paul stroking him, and despite beginning to pant from the feeling, went right back to sucking at Paul.

The two continued their version of a 69 for several long, heavy minutes; Paul stroking and pumping at Richard, while Richard sucked and greedily bobbed along Paul’s cock. Just as he felt himself nearly too far gone to stop, Paul sat up and hurriedly pushed Richard back as well. It seemed to be good timing for them both, as Richard was red-faced and trembling when he sat up. Paul had felt the increased stiffening in Richard’s dick as well, and knew it wouldn’t take much more for either of them to finish if they’d kept up.

Richard swallowed noisily, then asked, “Well… what now?”

Paul knew what Richard wanted; he also knew Richard just wanted him to ask for it.  
“Can I fuck you?” he asked breathlessly.

Richard bit his lip and nodded, a shy move that made Paul’s stomach clench in arousal. 

“Lube?”

“Middle drawer,” Richard said, pointing to the bedside table.

Paul jumped off the bed and grabbed the bottle from the drawer, bringing it back to their spot on the bed.

“Have you ever…?” Paul left the question hanging.

“A few times,” Richard answered, nodding. “Don’t worry.”

Paul smiled down at him, then busied himself with the lube. Richard immediately assumed a devastatingly attractive position in front of Paul, his ass presented up and his torso resting down against the bed. Paul groaned in pleasure at the sight.

“You’re beautiful,” Paul said, reaching out and caressing a hand along Richard’s backside appreciatively.

Richard turned his head back, and the cutest blush spread across his face at the praise. God, the man was gorgeous.

“You’re handsome as hell yourself,” Richard insisted, laying his head on the bed and gazing fondly up at Paul. “Now are you going to put that handsome dick in me, or what?”

“Soon.” Paul grinned, then climbed up on his knees behind Richard, admiring the man’s soft curves and shapely body and the way it moved and the sounds it made as his fingers made sure it would be ready for him.

“Paul - I need you, _now_ ,” Richard begged impatiently, and the intensity in his voice made Paul unable to wait a second longer.

After quickly stroking more lube onto himself, he pushed slowly into Richard. Paul’s mind went blank for a few moments, the only sensations left was the sound of a breathy gasp and the feeling of an overwhelming tightness. He’d wanted this for so, so long, and now, they were finally together, as close as they could possibly be. Paul moaned, loud and long as he finished pressing himself into Richard.

Paul grabbed harder at Richard’s hips when the man started moving on him, rocking himself slightly back and forth. Knowing that he would finish right there and then if he didn’t do something quickly, he took control, using Richard’s hips for leverage as he began to get into a rhythm. He went gently and slowly at first, taking care not to hurt Richard. Paul wasn’t outrageously hung, but had a *very* satisfying member in contrast to his shorter stature. 

Richard didn’t seem to be hurting at all; quite the opposite. The man was ecstatic, grabbing at his bedsheets and alternating between whimpers and sharp groans of arousal each time Paul pushed back in. His noises were like music to Paul, who felt himself quickly building up to climax.

With a short grunt, Paul leaned forward onto Richard’s back, bracing against the bed with one hand. Richard turned his head to look, and Paul marveled at the lust on his every feature. Determined to satisfy the man as best he was able, Paul slid his free hand around Richard’s waist and grasped at him. Richard’s back immediately stiffened again and his moans jumped in pitch. As he started thrusting into Paul’s hand, Paul’s own arousal shot through the roof at the feeling. 

Paul opened his mouth to tell Richard he was close, but was interrupted by Richard’s choked voice yelling out, “Fuck, Paul! I’m--”

The feeling of Richard stiffening even more, his cries of pleasure, the tight pulses around Paul’s cock all threw him careening off the edge right alongside Richard. Falling against Richard’s back, he held him tightly as they finished together, trembling and gasping in a haze of lust.

They stayed in the tight embrace for a long, long time, neither wanting to let go or separate from one another. Paul’s trembling arms finally gave out, and he slumped to the side of Richard, panting breathlessly. Richard followed suit, flopping down face-first onto the bed. The two said nothing for several minutes, simply listening to each other’s labored breathing and basking in the afterglow.

Paul suddenly got caught up in a giggle fit, prompting a questioning look from Richard.  
“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking. Remember how Olli told us about the whole «Paulchard» thing? Just imagine how wild the fangirls would get if they could see us now.”

Richard burst out laughing at the mental image. “We’d never, ever hear the end of it,” he agreed.

“I think we’ve officially earned our “Paulchard” title now, wouldn’t you say? With a snicker, Paul poked Richard on the hip, making him flinch away. He’d have to remember he was ticklish there.

“Hey, speaking of nicknames,” Paul said, sitting up, “I’ve got a question for you.”

Richard raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Yeah? What is it?”

“How do you get “Dick” from “Richard”?”

Richard groaned and flopped back onto the bed as he said, “That’s the oldest joke ever, Paul. I’ve heard it 10,000 times already. You just ask nicely.”

“Nope, that’s not it.”

With a frown, Richard looked over at the grinning man in his bed. “How, then?”

“You just take it.”

At that, Paul grabbed Richard’s crotch and laughed when he yelped at the touch.

Richard swatted at him, but then snatched and kissed Paul’s hand instead. He pulled, and Paul obeyed the man’s tugging to cuddle up close to him.

“Actually - I think I’ll have to take it tomorrow instead,” Paul chuckled, gently kissing Richard on the cheek. “I keep forgetting I’m not 20 anymore, and this old body needs sleep.”

Richard just mumbled something incomprehensible, wrapping his arms around the small, but wonderful body next to his. In that moment, they were the only people in the world; the only thing that mattered was that they were together, and that filled him with an indescribable happiness that almost made him afraid of falling asleep, afraid of breathing, afraid of speaking and breaking the illusion to reveal it had just been a dream.

So they lay there, exhausted and content, holding each other, their breathing the only sounds in the room.

Only when Richard could hear Paul drifting off to sleep, he broke the silence, whispering softly:

“I love you too, Paul.”

  


**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody, Niko popping in! This was an absolute BLAST to do with Wahnsinn, and so different from how we both normally write. Fortunately, I think the little experiment went well <3
> 
> We really would LOVE to hear you comment what you think of it, since this was such a branching out for us, but if you'd rather shoot a DM, tumblr is NikoNotHere. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


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